


Art as a Malady

by Katraa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Bookstore AU, Fluff, M/M, Pointless fluff, focus is mostly noiz/aoba, lots of flirting, rating to be changed in the future, some coffeeshop au too, this is so self-indulgent wow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working in a bookstore was great once Aoba overcame his fear of heights and could manage the ladders he had to use on a daily basis.  What wasn't great was the piercing-obsessed, coffee drinking, weird punk that his boss explicitly warned him of.  What wasn't great was that his brother and eccentric coworker, Clear, seemed to be setting him up with said punk.  What wasn't great was his best friend's obvious distaste for the teenager.  And what wasn't great was that, despite loving books, Aoba had never read Dorian Gray before.  Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art as a Malady

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heirofderping](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=heirofderping).



> i wrote this in a live-write with a bunch of idiots (no i kid i love you all)  
> so thanks for being a part of this!  
> i'll probably write the next part sometime this week.  
> you can find out when and if you want to be a part of the live chat over at my tumblr [ here](http://quietmylove.tumblr.com/)  
> i'll post when and where it's happening, folks.  
> also, this is dedicated to bri, who was there when the idea spawned.

When Aoba first took the job he had a rather large fear of heights. It wasn't so much a fear of falling but rather his head got dizzy, his vision got a bit blurred, and his pulse raced. Thus, in order to avoid the unpleasantness, he strayed away from heights at all costs, unless absolutely necessary.

But, of course, bookstores had ladders and in order to take advantage of the large ceiling, many of those books were kept on towering shelves that were at least double Aoba's height. A ladder would have to do and a ladder was Aoba's singular enemy for the first few days after he was hired.

The owner, a kind old man named Haga, had assured him that the ladders around the shop were made from the sturdiest material and that no one had died from falling off a bookstore ladder. It was embarrassing, to say the least, especially when his older brother - twin, actually - was hired a week after to work in the adjoined cafe that shared the building and brought in much of the foot traffic.

Sei had laughed at him when he realized the job entailed climbing ladders for customers, knowing very intimately of Aoba's distaste for heights. Aoba had shrugged it off but after a day or two he realized something had to be done. So on the eighth day Aoba faced the ladder with a stern expression, hair tied back in a ponytail. And he succeeded. To some degree.

It wasn't as bad as he had made it out to be but it still wasn't his favorite part of the job. No, his favorite part was helping customers find books that catered to their interests. There was something exhilarating about connecting with people over books. It was like temporarily taking a peek into their souls - what they liked, what excited them, what they dreamed about.

The kids were Aoba's favourite. The children would rush away from their parents the moment they stepped into the store and charge towards the children section. There, they would find building blocks and stuffed toys and endless shelves of books (that didn't require a ladder).

Sometimes they would ask Aoba to read to them and other times they would simply smile shyly at him. Aoba envied them, sometimes. To be so carefree and take such pleasure in simple things, it was definitely ideal.

But he couldn't really complain; he enjoyed his job and the people he worked with.

Alongside Sei worked a rather eccentric young man that seemed even more enthralled with his job than Aoba. His hair, prematurely white (and Aoba assumed it was some sort of genetic disorder that resulted in a lack of pigment), was still quite beautiful and it made his eyes stand out even more. He was young and he definitely acted like it, which was one of his many admirable traits. Sei and Clear, his name, had bonded quickly and Clear was more than eager to show Sei the ropes. The first day ended with Sei covered in flour, whip cream, and caramel syrup, but he left with a smile Aoba hadn't seen in awhile.

Aoba hadn't really had the chance to talk too much with Clear, as he was stationed closer to the middle of the bookstore. His job mostly involved retrieving books, placing online orders, and checking out orders.

Before he had taken the job, he hadn't realized his eyes were in need of reading glasses, but after the first few days he purchased a cheap pair of thick-rimmed, black glasses from the bookstore to wear. It made using the computer much easier and Sei had complimented him, saying he definitely fit the role of an 'indie bookstore worker'. Aoba had scoffed it off.

So all in all, it was a good job and Aoba looked forward to what the job would bring in the future. He wondered if the newness would wear off and he would grow to dislike the atmosphere, or if this was a permanent contentness.

But for now, he was happy.

Most days, anyway.

Today was especially stressful. Aoba had been late for his shift, hadn't had time to grab a coffee from Sei and Clear, and his hair was an absolute wreck, messily tossed up in a ponytail. His outfit had wrinkles and his eyes had tiny bags under them ( at least partially hidden with his glasses).

To make matters worse, the customers had been especially needy today and some caught an attitude when Aoba wasn't able to produce an answer to some of their questions. It wasn't even lunchtime and Aoba wanted to go home and curl up, listen to music, and space out the world around him.

And now, oh _now_ there was someone saying his name insistently and--

Oh. It was just Koujaku. Aoba's expression brightened instantly and he turned away from the computer to look up at his childhood friend, tension fading away at the drop of a hat. "You read books?"

Koujaku's expression contorted into mild displeasure before he chuckled warmly and rubbed at the nape of his neck. "What a brat," he said before peering over the counter for a second. "I'm actually picking up an order."

"For yourself, or...?" Aoba trailed off and began typing things into his computer, speed equivalent to a snail.

"Yeah. Surprised?"

"Definitely." Aoba shot his friend a quick, teasing grin before he managed to pull up the order. "...Why am I not surprised, you hippo."

Displayed on the screen was Koujaku's ordering, containing the books in question. The first two were relatively normal, involving hair-cutting techniques and recent cut trends, but the final item on the order caused Aoba's nose to scrunch up. _As to be expected_ , he thought rather dryly.

"What?" Koujaku asked, voice edged with slight concern. "What's wrong? Did they not come in?"

"Oh, they came in all right," Aoba murmured and began listing off the books in question, pausing dramatically to annunciate the last item, "...and the latest issue of Beach Babes XX Edition, September Issue."

Koujaku's face scorched a hot, fiery red and he averted his gaze instantly. The blush crept up to his ears and even his obnoxiously long bangs weren't able to keep Aoba from seeing the blush. "That's--!" he began hurriedly.

"Not for you?" Aoba guessed, teasingly leaning against the counter. "What a pervert. What happened to my hero?" he laughed, softly, and shook his head.

"Don't say it like that, Aoba," Koujaku said, mumbling, and proceeded to force himself out of his embarrassed stupor. "So, ah, are they in?"

"Yup," Aoba answered and straightened back up, stretching his arms lazily above his head. "I'll go get them for you. Haga probably put them in the back-room."

"Great," Koujaku answered, visibly relieved. "I'll wait right here."

"Why don't you go say hi to Sei. He's working here too, y'know. He was just saying last night that he misses seeing you around all the time," Aoba said as he snagged the back-room key from the desk drawer in front of him.

"Oh, really?" Koujaku chuckled and looked to his left and then right briefly. "I don't see him. Is he in the back?"

"Nah," Aoba said as he rounded the counter and stood beside Koujaku. He then proceeded to point towards the general direction of the bustling cafe section. "He took a job as a barista. He works with Clear."

"Clear?" Koujaku repeated, the name foreign on his lips.

"Oh, uh, he works here, too. He and Sei get along really well." Aoba swayed restlessly back and forth on the balls of his feet for a second or two longer. "Anyway, I'll be right back. So go say hi or something."

"Or something," Koujaku echoed, amusement present in his voice. With a nod, the dark-haired man headed over to the cafe as Aoba walked back to the storage room to grab Koujaku's order.

On his way to the back room, Aoba stopped to watch from his brother and his best friend from afar. They hadn't seen each other recently due to Sei's hospital visits and poor health and Koujaku's crazy schedule so it was nice to see the two catching up after such an uncalled for hiatus.

Koujaku had always been the protector of the two, even when they were little, and it was natural that the attachment continued into their adult years.

Of course, peering at the pair from afar left Aoba open to being startled. Which is exactly what happened. Haga appeared behind him without warning and clapped a hand down on Aoba's shoulder. Aoba started, barely managing to contain his yelp of surprise, before he whirled around to face his boss.

"Haga!" Aoba said, breathlessly, cheeks stained a soft pink.

"You look like you've seen a ghost!" Haga beamed and crossed his arms to his chest. "I was just comin' to see if Koujaku had found you or not. He seemed pretty lost."

"Ah, yes, he did! I'm actually getting his order right now," Aoba explained, hands lacing behind his back, key still jingling from his fingertips. "And yeah, he does look kinda out of place in here, doesn't he?"

Haga's voice dropped to a conspiring whisper to match Aoba's, "Hopefully he can find his way out, too, after he pays."

Aoba's brows lifted up behind his bangs and he let loose a tiny laugh. "Hopefully. Or else he'll have to wait for Sei and I's shifts to be over so we can help him."

"That's the spirit," Haga rejoiced before his expression resumed its serious disposition. "Actually, there was something else I wanted to talk to you about, Aoba."

"Huh?" Aoba asked, the keys nearly falling from his fingers in surprise. Something else? Fears clogged him mind momentarily and he wondered if his word had not been satisfactory. Claws and tendrils of anxiety licked at his heels, but before they could entirely consume him Haga continued.

"There's been this... kid around here lately."

"Kid?" Aoba echoed, nose wrinkling. "Which one? The little girl, or..."

"No, I mean..." Haga dropped his voice again, dissatisfaction seeping from it. "The teenager."

Aoba barely was able to refrain from laughing at Haga's blatant dislike of teenagers. "What teenager?" he pressed on.

"You'll know when you see him," Haga murmured, brows knit together as he cracked his knuckles for whatever reason.

"Ah...but you said he's been around, right?" Aoba said, head tilted to the side in slight confusion. If he had been hanging around here, why hadn't Aoba spotted him yet?

"Yeah. But you weren't working at that time so I had to kick him out myself," Haga said in utter disdain. "Kids these days, I swear."

Aoba's expression still showed a complete blank. "What exactly did he do?"

"He comes in here everyday, sits around on his laptop, and never buys anything. It's a surprise when he actually orders something from Sei or Clear!" Haga exhaustedly hung his head. "Just, if you see him, remind him that this is a private establishment and that if he isn't buying anything, he needs to scoot."

"To scoot." Aoba tried not to laugh and flashed his boss a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"He's bad news, that kid," Haga went on to say. "A real delinquent, with those piercings and horrible sense of fashion."

Aoba barely was able to contain his laughter this time. "Okay, okay. I'll make sure to show him the door if I see him. Thanks, Haga."

Haga nodded and then took off back to the front of store, leaving Aoba to retrieve Koujaku's order at last. At least the delay allowed Koujaku more time to catch up with Sei. Aoba quickly snagged the stack of books, and sketchy magazine, before he headed back over to the counter to ring up the order and wait for his friend.

As Aoba was waiting for Koujaku to return, he resumed his tiny game of minesweeper that he had started earlier to keep himself occupied. That was, at least, until out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a face full of piercings _far_ too close to his own. Startled, Aoba nearly fell out of his chair and shot a pathetic glare at the perpetrator. Was this the guy that Haga had warned him about just moments before? It was far too convenient.

"Uh, excuse me, sir, but you can't be behind here..." Aoba began, eying their close proximity.

Instead of answering him, the pierced-stranger opened the book in his hands and displayed the page to Aoba. Confused, Aoba looked down to it and quickly skimmed the header, _The Portrait of Dorian Gray_ .

Aoba's eyes dropped to the first paragraph of the page where the stranger was pointing explicitly at, _Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault. Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope. They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only Beauty. There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all._ . When he was finished reading the passage, he looked back up to the stranger, meeting his gaze for the first time. Was he wearing contacts? His eyes were an insanely strong shade of green.

"Is that true?" the stranger asked, poking the passage again.

"Is...what true?" Aoba repeated, nose scrunched up as he quickly recovered from his tiny staring contest.

"That there's no such thing as a badly written or immoral book," the stranger said.

"Ah, well," Aoba said, clearing his throat rather sheepishly. "I haven't read this book, actually."

"...That's stupid," the stranger murmured, looking disappointed. He stepped back behind the counter, allowing Aoba his space. Aoba was in the middle of counting _just_ how many piercings the blonde had when his attention was stolen by Koujaku returning to the counter.

"Koujaku!" Aoba said, perhaps a bit too loudly, because it caused the stranger to tense up. Empty green eyes showed the quickest flicker of dread, of fear, maybe, before they closed off again and the stranger stalked off to another part of the bookstore.

Koujaku seemed to pick up on the awkwardness and gave Aoba a concerned stare. "Who was that?"

"I don't know, to be honest," Aoba laughed, shaking his head. "Someone Haga told me to keep an eye on."

"Thief? Looks the type," Koujaku mumbled, watching the stranger disappear into the bookshelves.

"I don't think he's a criminal," Aoba said quickly and then amended his statement, "He just comes here a lot and doesn't buy anything. Haga was annoyed."

"I don't blame him. Punks like that need to be put in their place," Koujaku said, shaking his head again.

"Eh." Aoba didn't seem to necessarily agree but quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, I have your order."

"Thanks." Koujaku seemed easily placated by that and smiled charmingly at his friend. "How much do I owe you?"

Aoba told him the total, Koujaku paid him, and Aoba handed him the bag of books with a coy grin stirring on his lips. Koujaku seemed to notice and he turned bright red again, fingertips awkwardly clutching at the plastic bag.

"What?" Koujaku asked, sensing the inevitable.

"Enjoy your magazine, hippo," Aoba said, sticking his tongue out.

"You're impossible sometimes," Koujaku responded hurriedly and turned on his heel, adding in, "I will," without really thinking about it before he began walking away.

"Bye! Have fun, Koujaku!" Aoba called after him in a mischievous coo, watching as Koujaku's shoulders tensed up and he threw a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left the store.

As soon as Koujaku was out of the building, the 'punk' reappeared at Aoba's counter much to the worker's dismay. He still had a copy of Oscar Wilde's classic in hand, opened to around the same page as before. Aoba slumped back into his computer chair and forced the most polite smile he could.

"Were you interested in buying it, sir...?"

"What's your name?"

That didn't answer his question whatsoever. Aoba seemed taken aback for a moment before he gestured down to the tiny name-tag stuck to his cardigan. "It's Aoba."

The stranger was quiet at first, regarding the book in his hands carefully before he looked back up. "Hey. Do you think Dorian's consciously aware of the fact he's being manipulated?"

"Excuse me...?" Aoba blinked, entirely lost, as if the two of them were having two very different conversations, because essentially they were.

"Dorian. By Lord Henry, or whatever his name is."

"I don't..." Aoba began and then shook his head, hand coming to rub at his temples. "I told you, I didn't read the book."

"Tch." The stranger seemed upset again and clicked his tongue, a small metallic noise ringing in the otherwise silence.

"Did you want to buy it? I'm sure it's a great book," Aoba said, hoping that he'd be able to get the punk to make a purchase and leave the bookstore entirely.

The stranger didn't answer and instead stalked back off to the cafe portion of the store, seating himself down at one of the tables in front of a closed laptop. Aoba sighed loudly to himself when he was certain the stranger was out of range. Haga had been right about him. But, still, the fact that the kid was _reading_ went against the mental image Aoba had had of him originally when he heard about him. It was strange.

* * *

Later that day at the end of his shift Aoba found himself over at the cafe, chatting with both Clear and Sei. Apparently Clear had offered to help Sei to the drugstore after work to grab his medication that had just been filled.

Aoba quickly thanked the barista but shortly after lowered his voice to a whisper, leaning over the counter to get closer to his brother and coworker. "Ah, do you guys mind if I ask you something?"

"Of course," Sei said, smile present but edged with signs of worry. "What is it?"

"That kid... the one on his laptop. Does he really show up everyday? Haga seemed worried."

"Ah, you mean Noiz!" Clear answered rather loudly, hands clasping together happily.

Aoba tensed, shivers shooting down his spine. A cold sweat broke out and dread filled him. That kid - Noiz apparently - must have heard Clear shout his name and must have put two and two together that they were whispering about him.

"Yes, his name is Noiz," Sei confirmed and then briefly looked up from his brother to smile over at the stranger who was, indeed, looking their way, expression painted with confusion.

"Okay, okay, I get it, his name is Noiz. Can we not make it obvious we're talking about him?" Aoba nearly begged, his entire face a hot red. Was this payback for the teasing he had dished out to Koujaku earlier? It must be. The world had a strange way of giving divine retribution.

Maybe asking these two for something on the down-low was a bad idea, all things considered.

"He shows up everyday, yes," Sei went on to say, smile not slipping. "He usually leaves us a tip, too. It's sweet."

Clear nodded in approval and went on to say, finally lowering his voice to a whisper. "Yes! And he always tries my newest coffee creations! He really likes sweet things, Aoba!"

"That's..." Aoba shook his head, mind already throbbing. "Does he bother either of you?"

"No?" Sei frowned, now. "Like I said, he's rather polite and it's nice to have the company."

"Why is Aoba so curious?" Clear asked and then began grinning ridiculously. "Does Aoba want to talk to him? We can introduce you!"

"No that's--"

"Noiz!" Clear began shouting, waving his arms wildly over his head, despite them being relatively close to the punk. "Noiz, Aoba wants to meet you!"

Aoba wanted to kill himself. He sunk even further against the counter, trying to hide himself in his hair. Maybe he could just turn into a ball of blue hair and roll away and escape this before it got even more awkward. "Clear, that's not necessary...."

"Don't be shy, brother," Sei urged, poorly trying to hide a laugh behind his hand. "Oh look, he's walking over..."

"For the record, I hate you both," Aoba whispered, pout overtaking his face.

"That's not nice, Aoba," Clear scolded and wagged his finger in front of Aoba.

Before Aoba could argue, he felt a pair of sharp green eyes on his back. And then a warm presence beside him, leaning against the remaining portion of his counter. Hands were placed neatly on the counter, laced together, showing off even more piercings than before. Aoba did his best not to stare but found it impossible. His eyes flicked over to the stranger and took his appearance in fully, silently agreeing with Haga about Noiz's train wreck of a fashion sense.

"You wanted to meet me?"

Aoba could hear, and almost feel and taste, the haughtiness in the stranger's voice. Defensively hunching his shoulders, Aoba muttered back, "I already met you. Clear and Sei just misunderstood."

"Clear, can you help me with something in the back?" Sei suddenly asked, stepping away from the pair. Clear seemed to catch on and he quickly scurried away with Sei into the small kitchen, leaving a gaping Aoba.

He was being ditched, in a _bookstore_ , that they all worked at, by his _brother_ , with some weird stranger. This was entirely a misunderstanding and now he was suffering the consequences.

Oh, he was going to kick him out so hard.

"So hard, huh?"

Aoba was dragged back to reality by the cocky grin on Noiz's lips.

Aoba's eyes widened with panic and he hastily asked, "Did I just say all of that..."

"Out loud? Yeah." Noiz clicked his tongue again and cocked his head to the side. "That's your brother?"

Aoba groaned, hand resuming its earlier placement at his temples. He purposely avoided the lewd suggestion that Noiz had obviously been hinting at. "Yeah. You couldn't tell? We're fraternal twins."

Noiz's nose scrunched up. "Ah."

Aoba sighed again and pushed at his glasses, trying to rub his eyes. It was a long day and it felt like the last thirty minutes had dragged on forever. "Listen. I won't kick you out as long as you promise to buy something from time to time and keep out of trouble, ok?"

"'kay," Noiz responded simply.

"...Okay?" Aoba repeated skeptically. That was it? That was all it took? Really?

"Yeah." Noiz nodded, slipped his hands into his pockets, and headed back to his tiny table.

Highly suspicious, Aoba remained where he was and watched Noiz pack up and leave the bookstore, never once looking back towards Aoba. But it looked like he had left something. When Aoba was certain the punk was gone he headed over to the table Noiz had been seated at. There sat the copy of _Dorian Gray_ that Noiz had been asking about earlier.

Curiously, Aoba picked up the book and ran his fingers along the binding. His first instinct was to return it to the shelf, but curiosity got the best of him, as it always seemed to do.

Sei and Clear seemed to be preoccupied with whatever distraction they had cooked up as an excuse to leave, so Aoba decided to pack up and call it a day.

And that was how Aoba left the bookstore that evening, _Dorian Gray_ clutched under his arm as the rain fell from the heavens, silently mocking his futile attempts at minding his own business. Fate was a tricky mistress like that, it seemed.


End file.
